


positive values of inclination

by Kt_fairy



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, misuse of an antarctic observatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kt_fairy/pseuds/Kt_fairy
Summary: “This evenings readings have put me in good spirits,” James explained, knocking his leg against Francis’ as he shifted closer. “Roused my spirits, I dare say,” he said with all sincerity as he brought Francis’ hand close to his body. “I was also thinking of how glad I am to have your company, Frank.”ORhandsomest man in the royal navy sucks dick to unwind and manages to be a nerd about it
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Sir James Clark Ross
Comments: 19
Kudos: 39





	positive values of inclination

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of in the same universe? sphere? as my other OG Cold Boy Fic [oh a nice watch below wouldn't do us any harm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22318255). You don't have to read that before this, but you can if you want.
> 
> Thank you to MsKingBean for sending me [ this post ](https://laissezferre.tumblr.com/post/618814874936606720/pottedmusic-so-i-suddenly-realized-that-i-never) and starting all this off. As well as for her ever keen eye, good judgement, support, patience with my grammar, and general excellence.

Shapes swirled before James’ eyes as he rubbed at them, dull versions of the lights that painted the polar skies. He sighed, his vision remaining blurred a moment before the main room of the observatory swam back into focus about him, all the brass instruments glowing warmly in the lamplight.

With a grunt, he rose from the stool he had been perched on for a good three hours now, the thrill of a good evening’s work leaving him in that strange middle ground between contentment and restlessness. His mind was still turning over the evening's readings, which were some of the best they had gained all week, and would bring the expedition closer to locating the magnetic south pole; James could tell that even before they were subjected to the relevant calculations.

James stretched his arms above his head, the crack of his back sending such a wave of satisfaction through him that he groaned aloud. He leaned into the sensation, then sagged, rubbing at the stiffness his neck as he closed up the books and tucked them under his arm.

He took a turn about the room to douse the lamps, stamping his feet to get warm blood pumping through his legs. The slow plunge into darkness did not reduce the temperature, but a lack of light often made one feel the bite of the cold, and goosebumps ran up James' despite all the layers he was swathed in. 

No-one ever truly got used to the cold, not even hardened polar explorers, for humans were made for warmth and companionship. The thought of which had James turning towards the back of the hut, where the rich smell of his supper cooking was to reaching out along with the orange glow that streaked over the floorboards from beneath the slightly warped door.

The little antechamber had been built as somewhere to shelter in case one of the sudden snow storms of this region blew in, separating the observatory from the ships. It was no bigger than a lieutenant's cabin, most of the space taken up by the pallet where they slept, but it was where Francis and he had been living for the better part of two weeks now, so they could take regular, thorough magnetic and meteorological readings. 

Their intimate and longstanding friendship made the cramped quarters not only bearable, but pleasant. There were few people whose close company James liked so well as Frank’s. To be ensconced together here was so like their old days with Parry, when their only responsibility was their work, not keeping ships afloat in the wild, terrifying southern oceans; and to have the leisure - and the pleasure - of one another’s company. 

“Good evening, Frank,” James proclaimed as he kicked the rolled up blanket against the bottom of the door to keep the draught out. It was not precisely warm in here, but the small, cast iron stove, set far enough in the corner so as not to disrupt the instruments, put out enough heat to keep it habitable. Francis was sitting beside it on an upturned box, elbows on his knees and chin perched on his gloved hand as he looked into the middle-distance. The familiar, open thoughtfulness about his face lightened when he looked at James. 

“James.”

“Dinner smells very agreeable," James said as he put the books away, throwing a nod towards the pot on the stove.

“One of my finer recipes,” Francis murmured drily as he straightened, taking a tin mug of tea from the back of the stove to pass to James. “It’s some half frozen stew, courtesy of my cook, with an added tin of pea soup to help it along.”

“Upon our return to London it shall become _of the mode_ in no time, I don’t doubt,” James said as he sipped his tea - it was abominably strong and sweet in the way only Francis could make it; the heat of it causing his face to tingle as warmth rushed down to throat to settle in his stomach.

James pulled off his welsh wig, tucking it into the pocket of his greatcoat as he moved to stand closer to Francis, the warmth making his restlessness all the more apparent. "Have you made much progress with the calculations since this morning?"

Francis huffed, rolling his shoulders back to ease out the hours bent over the calculation books. "Either the magnetic pole moves about, or the dip circles have been rebelling against us,” he said with a shrug. “I checked it all twice, and did not see what could have gone wrong.” 

“Ah,” James gripped Francis’ shoulder, pressing his thumb against the strip of warm skin above the collar of his shirt - a small action that was all the question needed, so familiar they were with the other. “I'd trust your abilities over any seeming impossibility, old man.”

Francis glanced at the hand on his shoulder, then looked up at James, eyebrow raised. “I take it the magnetic readings were a success this evening?”

“Oh. Like a dream, Frank,” James sighed like a lovesick fool, and Francis laughed at him. “The instruments all worked so smoothly that I feel one or two more days of this clear weather and we might have the location of the magnetic pole narrowed down further. Reminded me of why I am so passionate about it all." James gave Francis' shoulder another squeeze. "If it were not below minus thirty, I might suggest we go for a walk to wear off how invigorated I feel.”

“Might you,” Francis said evenly as he patted James’ hand, obediently turning his palm when James reached to take it. “Well. I am certainly glad your mood has not blackened from this morning, dear, for I would have taken shelter out there with the penguins.”

James went to speak, then closed his mouth, almost letting go of Francis’ hand.

He had been complentative earlier that day, his mind lingering on Ann before their scientific work had chased her away. Her presence in his thoughts brought on a vast range of emotions, for he did love her so; but it was only here, in this observatory with Francis, that they caused a mixed up sort of niggling guilt.

Ann was his love, his future wife - God willing - yet James felt very sorry for thinking about her when with Francis, on both of their accounts. As if he were doing them both a wrong. 

He and Frank had always felt a great well of trust and fondness for the other, it was the basis of their friendship. A love that was of a different sort than James felt for women, but love all the same. And was it not better for the soul, and the health of the body, to find comfort and relief from an equal who one felt affection for, rather than a purchased body.

Maybe that was what mixed it all up for James, because what happened at sea bore no relation to what happened on land. It could not. And it was not as if they had ever engaged in sodomy. 

“This evenings readings have put me in good spirits,” James explained, knocking his leg against Francis’ as he shifted closer. “ _Roused_ my spirits, I dare say,” he said with all sincerity as he brought Francis’ hand close to his body. “I was also thinking of how glad I am to have your company, Frank.”

“You needn’t flatter me into it, Ross,” Francis murmured, fingers flexing in James’ grip. “You have never needed to. Especially when you have set your mind to it - if only for that sake of a quiet life.”

“Oh, what a dedicated second you are,” James shot back at the teasing, taking one last gulp of rapidly cooling tea before he set it back down the stove. “I am not so bad.”

“You are, and you know it.”

James huffed, taking his hand back from Francis in order to pull off his cashmere gloves, stuffing them into his pockets as he dropped to his knees.

Francis made a surprised noise, grabbing James’ shoulder to keep him at arm’s length as he warned, “you are the expedition commander, James.” Exercising caution and good sense, as always.

“Frank, dear,” James said, hands on Francis’ knees. “We are a mile from the ships, which are in Birdy’s care. And I can not say that I command this observatory. Or you. Or the blasted penguins that cover every inch of this continent.” 

As if they had heard him, the far distant, squabbling murmur of the nearby colony rose in a flurry of noise that was almost comical in its timing. 

"See how they rebel against me, old man!"

Francis narrowed his eyes at James, but let his coat go all the same in order to undo the buttons of his trousers. 

No, they had never engaged in sodomy, but they had engaged in other things - or rather, James had. He was the adventurous one to Francis’ steadiness, afterall, and if not for his natural curiosity - a thing only Francis had never been exhausted by - James Ross would not be where he was today. 

In more ways than one. 

They had dared enough dalliances over the years that James knew how to handle Francis to hardness, shifting close between his thighs to soak up the heat of his body and to shield that most delicate part of a man from the ice in the air. The box creaked as Francis leant back, his hands gripping the edges of it. There was an incredulous look about his face which did not lessen the desire in his eyes, that always glinted so clearly in firelight.

But James was not here to gaze into his friend's eyes, and he sat back on his heels to take Francis' cock into his mouth. James took a moment to remember how to breathe through his nose, Francis gasping and reaching out to grasp the back of his coat when James began to apply himself to this task with as much diligence as he applied to his scientific endeavours. 

The precise, repetitive motions of his tongue and lips were not so different to the mindless concentration he directed towards his experiments. Only now the variables he had to be concerned about were the jerking on Francis’ hips, the gasps and groans he could not keep back, and the way his thighs tensed beside James whenever he squeezed the base of his stand. Easy, familiar reactions that James could turn his mind to, narrowing fifty thoughts to just one.

“ _Ah, Christ_ ,” Francis grit out when James used the flat of his tongue against the underside of his prick (a trick James had borrowed from an obliging lady in Aberdeen), sweeping it around the head before taking Francis in until James’ lips touched his hand. He remained there a moment, feeling Francis hand clench his coat tightly, bobbing his head once, twice more, before pulling away to gasp in a breath. 

The lung full of frozen air was a shock that he should have anticipated, James’ heated face prickling as he forced down a cough. There were some muttered negotiations while James fumbled with the buttons of his own trousers, and he sat up on his knees so that Francis could slip his hand into his linens to wrap his fingers around James’ half cocked prick. 

His hand was cold enough to make James hiss, but Francis’ skin soon warmed as he palmed at him in the firm way that James preferred. James' breaths came in frozen clouds as he panted through his rapidly moving pleasure, keeping his fist twisting over Francis’ prick until he cursed under his breath, the heels of Francis' boots scraping against the floor as wet heat dappled James' fist. 

Francis’ rhythm faltered only for a moment as he wrung out James’ end with his usual efficiency. James let out a low sound as slow, heavy warmth spread through him; all restlessness of thought and body given up to his mellowing release.

He sat back heavily on his heels, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as a wonderful sense of weariness came over him, watching Francis tuck himself away before seeing to himself. 

“I think dinner is in order,” James sighed, feeling rather pleased with how flushed Francis was, his sandy red hair somehow in disarray.

James accepted the handkerchief dipped in the jug of ice melt kept by the stove, using it to clean himself up. Then he took the hand Francis offered to pull him to his feet, knees protesting for a moment after kneeling on the frozen floor. 

“The true priorities of a sailor,” James continued as he clattered about looking for their bowls. “Hard work, satisfaction and filling food, eh Frank?”

When no answer came, James looked about and found Francis flopped out on the bed, fast asleep. James rolled his eyes, proud of that result as proof of a job well done, while feeling rather fond towards his friend. 

He watched Francis a moment, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and considered his own sated state; the heaviness in his limbs and behind his eyes that meant sleep was coming sooner rather than later. Never one to put anything off, James went to join him, settling in close to Francis’ warmth, allowing it to lull him towards his own rest before the chill had left the lumpy pillow beneath his head.

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to the comedic timing of those penguins. the real MVP's


End file.
